


Sweet escape

by zation



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (you know it liked it though), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Crying During Sex, Dom Dean, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Hand Job, Light Dirty Talk, M/M, Open Ending, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riches and Rags, VERY light bondage, because it's so good and he needs to come yall, cas riding dean, established sex buddy relationship, sub cas, that tie hurt nobody, they completely ruin a perfectly good tie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21594556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zation/pseuds/zation
Summary: All in all, Castiel is a very sought after man, attractive and charismatic. Women want him, men want to be him, mothers wish he was their son-in-law and fathers dream to have someone that influential in their families. Castiel Novak is, in short, the perfect man.Or,The one where Castiel has a huge secret.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 45
Kudos: 437





	Sweet escape

**Author's Note:**

> I have nothing witty to say, please simply enjoy some destiel porn lmao!
> 
> And all heil my beta BeeCas ♥ I SAID HEIL HER!

Castiel Novak was a very well put together man. Distinguished, some might say, although he was younger than the people that word usually was reserved for.

He was tall and handsome, blessed with thick hair and a straight jaw. His blue eyes were at times soft and at times piercing and he had been told that he had the perfect eyebrows for what people called “dom-brow”. Castiel didn’t know much about that but he did get his eyebrows regularly trimmed to keep the effect, if only because it was useful in his work.

At only age 35 he was already chief CFO at the Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc. headquarters in Ohio and he was damn good at his job, with a sharp and quick mind he kept his bosses on their toes and his co-workers and subordinates in check. Sandover’s stock had only grown since he entered the chessboard, so to speak.

Yes, Castiel was impeccable in everything he did, something that showed not only in his actions and appearance but his possessions as well.

He had a fabulous penthouse, kept spotless by no less than two maids. He drove a Prius and a Bentley, when he was feeling adventurous. He wore only Armani suits and ties made of the finest silk. His bed was made with Egyptian cotton and he had several watches, each one more expensive than some people’s cars and more than one clad in 18 carat gold.

He kept himself well, both in and out. Went to regular doctor’s appointments, ate only meat and vegetables, no carbohydrates and only the good kinds of fat. He exercised three times a week and drank alcohol only when his work demanded it as a part of social events.

He hadn’t had a lasting relationship in years but was often seen at galas and receptions with beautiful women on his arms, a charming smile in place, showing a straight line of pearly whites. He had been named “Most eligible bachelor” and similar such titles by Forbes magazine more than once and politely laughed at the titles when asked about them.

All in all, Castiel was a very sought after man, attractive and charismatic. Women wanted him, men wanted to be him, mothers wished he was their son-in-law and fathers dreamed to have someone that influential in their families. Castiel Novak was, in short, the perfect man.

And he had a huge secret.

Once in a while, when the pressure got too high, when he got sick of being “perfect” in every goddamn way, Castiel left his prized cars in the underground parking attached to his apartment building and took a taxi to the airport.

From there he took a flight to Kansas City, Kansas, sometimes riding coach just to get on the first plane available. He _never_ planned these trips ahead and often had to settle for whatever seat and company he could get his hands on and he didn’t even care. Those days, when he woke up feeling _that_ particular yearning, he knew he had to do whatever he could to reach his destination, with whatever means possible.

At the airport in Kansas City he sometimes rented a car, but mostly took another taxi, uncaring of the prices. And then he rode the car the rest of the way to Lawrence, Kansas. By now he had memorized the address to the little suburban house and if he took a taxi those were the only words he spoke to the taxi driver the whole way there, too wrapped up in his own thoughts so close to his goal to be able to keep up a professional persona.

The house he eventually arrived at was not dilapidated per se, but it needed touch-ups. The paint around the windows was flakey and the lawn more often than not needed mowing. There was a big tree on the front lawn, its branches twisted with age, and Castiel was always comforted by the sight of its big crown.

He paid the taxi driver too much and walked away from the cab before he could be bothered with the change. The man shouted after him but Castiel barely heard him, too caught up in feeling _right_ , for lack of a better word, and the driver soon gave up anyway.

Castiel stared fondly at the black beauty of a car that was taking up the whole driveway. More than the tree, the sight of her imbued Castiel with a sense of belonging and peace. Since it was in the middle of the afternoon he had known that there might be a chance he would be left waiting outside, it wouldn’t be the first time, but at seeing the sleek Chevy Impala he knew he was safe and he walked up the overgrown path with a smile on his face.

The house was a two-story colonial house, on the smaller side. It had an attached garage that was filled with boxes and mostly used for storage. The key fob to the garage door had long since stopped working, or maybe it was the motor itself that was shot, and you had to slam your shoulder against the door at the same time as you pulled on the handle to make it open.

The neighborhood was filled with similar houses, some more kept than others, and the sounds here were much different from what Castiel was used to. Children laughing, couples arguing, cars driving by at a leisurely pace. Smells were different too, more dainty flowers and sizzling barbecue and less concrete and smog.

The front porch creaked when Castiel walked on it, it needed to be readjusted and touched up with a new coat of oil. There were pots of dried and dead plants on the railing and on one end was a porch swing. The sight of it made Castiel’s body heat up and he quickly averted his eyes to look at the front door instead so as not to lose himself in memories of past visits and exploits.

The paint on the door was flakey too and the doorbell wasn’t working last time he was here so Castiel used the knocker this time. It didn’t take long before the door opened a crack, the man inside grumbling, though a leer soon appeared on his handsome face as soon as he saw Castiel on the other side of the door.

Dean Winchester was a broad-shouldered, tall man. Hair a sandy brown and green eyes crackling with mischief. He wore jeans with rips on the knees, not from fashion but from wear and tear, and old band shirts with faded logos and chipped hems. His hands were big, fingers thicker than Castiel’s and nails kept short not by clippers but from the man biting them.

Today Dean wore a Def Leppard shirt that looked fairly new but still had managed to get a stain, and he was carrying a beer bottle by the neck, pinched between his thumb and two fingers. He leaned on the door post, eyes raking up and down Castiel in his pristine suit, the look dirty at best.

“Hiya, Cas.”

Here, in a quiet suburb in Lawrence, Castiel wasn’t a successful and influential businessman. He wasn’t rich or sought after. Here, Castiel was Cas and he was Dean’s.

A pleasurable shiver went down his spine when Dean stepped back to allow him passage inside the house. The door opened up right into the living room and in here it was as if time had stood still. There was still the same sunken down couch, the same TV and the same coat hanger. It calmed him.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas mumbled to the floor, too overwhelmed now that he was finally in the man’s presence. Dean was like balm on Cas’ soul and he wished he had the words to express himself but also knew he didn’t need to, not with Dean.

Dean just _knew_ and it was enough.

The beer was discarded on a nearby dresser and rough hands grabbed Cas’ coat, pushing it off his shoulders the moment before Dean pushed up Cas’ chin, locking his lips with Cas’ in a harsh kiss. There was never any preamble between them and that was one of the most comfortable things about coming here.

Cas came here to relax, to unwind, to let his needs and desires show and be tended to. Cas came here to let Dean use him, to be what the man wanted him to be, and Dean let him come any and every time Cas needed to, though only God knew why because Cas hadn’t dared ask yet.

Dean and Cas met eight years ago when Cas was in Lawrence on a conference. That was before he had become the man he was today but he had still been well on his way, appearance slick and inviting in an elitist way. Dean had been dirty and practically oozing of raw sexuality already then.

There had been a small fire in an empty office at the conference hotel and the whole building had had to be evacuated. Dean was working as a volunteer firefighter at the time and he had been outside, calming the masses and aiding his co-workers. Although there hadn’t been too much for him to do since the fire essentially had been put out by the automatic sprinklers and when Dean and Cas’ eyes met the world had seemed to melt away anyway.

Cas hadn’t yet been with another man at that time but he had enthusiastically let Dean take every kind of lead there was. Talking had led to dinner, which had led to a round at the pub, which had led to Dean bringing Cas home to his house, which had led to Cas losing not only his anal v-card but also himself. Dean completely entranced him and Cas had been young and eager. In truth, Cas had been naïve and he still was, in some ways.

He moaned into the kiss, dropping his expensive, genuine leather briefcase on the floor. His hands came up to grasp at Dean’s solid frame and he melted against the man. His dick was already growing hard, a Pavlovian response if there ever was one, and it made Dean huff out a chuckle when he felt it against his leg.

“Get undressed, boy.”

Cas was in actuality older than Dean.

He shrugged out of his clothes, not caring where they landed, even if Dean’s floor was in dire need of vacuuming. At home, Castiel took great care to fold his expensive shirts and pants, even if he was putting them in the hamper. Here, Cas tossed them wherever in his haste to get naked. Sometimes his clothes got dirty and wrinkled, and sometimes something even tore. When that happened Cas borrowed Dean’s clothes to return to Ohio in, although “borrow” was a loose term since he had never once returned them.

Sometimes Castiel slept in Dean’s shirts but no one knew about that.

As he shucked off his clothes, Dean picked up Cas’ briefcase and took great care to lock it safely in a cupboard by the front door. That briefcase held everything that Castiel needed to function in his normal life, it was too important to be discarded so carelessly so Dean was always very careful with it. At the end of their tryst, sometimes an hour later and sometimes days later, Dean would unlock the cupboard and return the briefcase, marking the end of this. It was a comfortable routine that let Cas relax, especially so now that the cupboard’s door was locked and the key had been removed from the door and put in Dean’s pocket for safekeeping.

“Dean,” he whined, dick hard and bobbing as he stood there, completely unashamed of his nakedness. He was safe here; Dean wouldn’t have told him to undress if he wasn’t.

“Come here,” Dean’s hands felt as calloused as ever when he grabbed Cas’ wrist, leading him over to the old couch.

Cas bit his lower lip when Dean tossed a pillow on the floor, the simple gesture was more than enough for Cas to know where he belonged right now and he eagerly kneeled in front of the couch. Dean licked his lips as he sat down in front of Cas, eyes burning through Cas’ soul.

There was a coffee stain on Dean’s jeans, on the inside of his right thigh, and Cas put his thumb against it when he leaned closer, eyes expectant as he looked up at Dean.

“Fucking picture perfect,” Dean muttered and reached to the right, groping for a pack of off-brand cigarettes without taking his eyes off Cas’. He lit one with a beaten old Zippo lighter that Cas knew had belonged to Dean’s late father.

The smoke spread around them and Cas, who had never smoked in his life, readily breathed in the heady scent. Dean leered at him when Cas’ dick jumped at the smell. Dean often smoked in bed and Cas couldn’t help where his mind went; didn’t want to stop it either.

He whined again, wordlessly now, and put his face against Dean’s crotch. The man’s dick was thick and hard, trapped in the leg of his soft jeans, and Cas nuzzled against it, mouth open and begging. Dean let him suffer for a while, clearly enjoying his cigarette, and it drove Cas crazy with want. Dean knew, Cas could see it in the man’s expression, and judging by the way Dean’s dick jumped he relished seeing Cas fidget.

“Go on then,” Dean said gruffly when his cigarette was about halfway done. He pulled open his belt but let Cas do the rest.

Quickly and smoothly Cas reached into Dean’s jeans after opening them, fingers brushing lovingly as he wrapped them around the pulsing dick, pulling it out. He mewled under his breath, pressing his mouth and nose against Dean, breathing him in. Dean hissed and snagged a hand in Cas’ hair.

“That’s enough.”

Cas stopped himself from pulling Dean’s clothes further down, letting his balls stay trapped in the man’s underwear no matter how much he wanted them out and available. This was as much as Dean was willing to give him right now and he loved it, loved not only what he got but the fact that he was denied.

He groaned deeply, the sound vibrating up his throat, and swiftly swallowed as much of Dean as he could manage. He was good at this by now, Dean had told him, and he took his time to lather the man’s entire length, sucking at the swollen head as one might suck on a particularly savory lollipop.

Dean huffed out a soft grunt and sunk deeper down on the couch, one hand sliding back to cup Cas’ head and the other managing the still burning cigarette. He just barely reached to flip off the ashy tip in a nearby ashtray and the motion made his dick poke at the inside of Cas’ cheek, bulging it. Cas moaned wantonly, his own dick hard and forgotten, leaking with need. Cas loved to be at Dean’s mercy.

He took it slow, sucking languidly, but only because that was the pace Dean directed him to. If Cas had been the one to decide he would have choked himself on Dean’s thick dick long ago. Dean knew this, as he knew so many other things about Cas by now, and obviously took as much pleasure in denying Cas as Cas took in being denied.

When Dean brushed the tip of his work boot against Cas’ balls the touch made a surge go through him. He pulled off Dean’s dick with a wet pop, gasping as he turned huge, tear-filled eyes up at the man. To be honest he hadn’t realized just how much he needed to come until he was touched.

“Pretty,” Dean tutted, using his thumb to push his dick closer to Cas’ face. “Come on, pretty boy.”

Cas made a pitiful sound when Dean left his boot where it was so that when Cas leaned in again he ended up grinding against it. Sucking on Dean’s dick again became a perilous game because it gave him so much pleasure but at the same time he didn’t want to soil Dean’s boot with his precome. And Dean hadn’t given him permission to come yet either, something that suddenly seemed a close possibility.

Knowing he was himself approaching the point of no return, and rapidly, he pulled out all his tricks on Dean. Tricks the man himself had taught Cas to make him perfect in the art of pleasuring Dean and Dean alone. Spearing the tip of his tongue to prod at the frenulum, up into the slit at the top, deepthroating him quick and dirty, moaning like a whore, chin dripping with saliva as Dean pushed him down and held him there so that he choked a little, just like he wanted.

“Fuck,” Dean grunted, the tone of his voice a beloved sign that he was close to the edge now.

Cas hummed, the sound high-pitched and needy, as Dean started humping up to meet Cas’ mouth. Cas ached to touch the man’s balls too and the fact that he wasn’t allowed drove him to the brink of his sanity, hands clenching hard on Dean’s thighs as he practically smashed his own balls against the man’s boot. His dick was hot and ramrod straight, so hard it hurt and he was dangerously close to coming untouched, a thin string of precome attaching his dick to a spot on his own stomach where his dick has slapped against him on a particularly hard thrust.

Cas startled so badly when Dean’s phone suddenly rang that he almost swallowed around Dean’s dick. The motion made him choke, but not in a good way, and he hastily pulled away, coughing. Dean reached for him at the same time as he dug out his phone from his jeans pocket and Cas was quick to lean his chin against Dean’s warm palm, the touches assuring.

“Yeah?” Dean pulled him closer even as he took the call and Cas buried his face against the base of Dean’s dick, sighing contently. “Nah,” Dean watched him with twinkling eyes, mind obviously split between him and whoever was on the other end of the call. Cas felt privileged in a rather stupid way and he started enthusiastically sucking on Dean again. “Can’t right now. No, that’s gonna—cause I’m sayin’ so,” there was a pause. Dean was looking up at the ceiling and stroking his thumb over Cas’ jaw as Cas went back to leisurely deepthroating him. “Yeah. Yeah stuff came up. Dunno, yeah I dunno but count me out.”

Cas felt a flush go through him, arousal spiking at the thought of Dean postponing or possibly cancelling things because of him. Because _he_ was more important, because Dean would rather spend time with _him_. He whined involuntarily, his suspended orgasm making itself known, and Dean bucked up against him. Dean’s eyes were on him when he looked up, green eyes hooded and pupils blown.

“Yeah you can bitch all you want, it ain’t happening right now. Talk to you later, Sammy.”

He ended the call with that and carelessly tossed his phone to the side. Dean and Cas didn’t know much about each other’s private lives but Cas did know that Sam was Dean’s little brother and that the two were very close. Which was why Cas felt both remorse at having come between them now and heightened arousal at the fact that Dean hadn’t just cancelled any old plans, he had cancelled on his beloved sibling. For Cas’ sake. To be there for _Cas_. To pleasure Cas and to take pleasure from him for himself.

“Dean,” he whimpered out, his voice never reaching such heights normally and Dean’s whole body shuddered.

“Wait,” he ground out, grabbing Cas’ hair and pulling him closer again. “Wait your turn.”

Cas pressed his thighs together and eagerly opened his mouth to let Dean use him. It didn’t take long like this, Dean pumping his hips shallowly and smoothly and Cas letting his chin hang loose, saliva coating Dean’s whole dick. He spread his legs wider when he came, head thrown back and a drawn-out groan escaping him as he pumped Cas’ mouth full of his thick come.

Cas swallowed eagerly, throat working to spill as little as possible and by the time Dean was done, Cas was so high on his own arousal that all he could do was sit there and pant, dick quivering.

“Fuck, boy,” Dean grunted, leer returning when he saw how eager Cas was for him. “Stay there, hold it a little longer, yeah?”

“Dean, I—”

“I know,” Dean shushed him as he got up and walked over to the pile of Cas’ discarded clothes. Cas remained seated but he didn’t know how much longer he could stand the torture of not touching himself. To remain on the razor sharp edge was both bliss and agony.

When Dean came back, he was carrying Cas’ silk tie. Lilac because it contrasted well with his light grey suit, or so his tailor had told him. Cas was torn between staring at the tie, Dean’s mischievous grin, or the man’s now soft dick, still fully displayed.

As Dean kneeled beside him, Cas’ mind gave up trying to focus on anything relevant for a moment. He leaned back with his hands on the floor behind him, still on his knees as Dean reached out to wrap the tie loosely around Cas’ rock hard dick. He bit his lip against a frankly embarrassing sound and Dean tutted again.

“Like this, Cas,” he whispered, squeezing Cas’ dick in his big hand at the same time as he went in to kiss Cas deeply.

Licking his way inside Cas’ mouth, he started stroking Cas’ dick, the tie getting smeared with precome and Cas didn’t even care. He whined, desperately kissing Dean back as he started thrusting into the man’s hand. Everything soon became uncoordinated and Cas felt his orgasm rush through him like a tidal wave. His back bent awkwardly and he curled his fingers against the rug underneath the coffee table behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut, the fire burning him inside out, and when Dean brushed his lips against Cas’ ears whispering “now, Cas” sweetly, there was really nothing else for him to do but give in.

He came with a short shout, a burst of air that forced its way out of him even as his stomach muscles cramped, body jerking as he sprayed his stomach and chest with white warmness, the spray directed by Dean’s skilled hand.

“There we go,” Dean mumbled against his temple, pleased smile grazing his lips as he pushed them against Cas’ sweaty skin. “So much, huh? You keep all that just for me?”

Somehow, someway, the fact that Cas’ pristine tie was now muddled by his come made this whole thing better. Cas breathed out shakily, nodding slowly. It wasn’t the whole truth; Cas didn’t save himself between his visits, but it was close enough and Dean knew the full truth anyway. It was just pillow talk, things to say to make it better, to make Cas looser and more pliant.

Dean kept it up for a while, playing with Cas’ oversensitive dick and making sure to thoroughly smear the tie in his come as he rasped dirty and delicious things in Cas’ ear.

“You look so good being used by me, Cas. Perfect Cas in his perfect suit bending the knee to a filthy blue collar like me. Do you enjoy it?”

Dean already knew he did; knew that it was part of why Cas liked it so much. Not the whole thing, of course, Dean gave Cas so much more than he could ever hope to express, but yes of course the fact that Cas technically was above Dean’s station was part of the attraction.

“Come on,” Dean murmured after a while, getting to his feet and easily hauling Cas up as well.

Cas was by no means a small man but Dean was strong, had more than once carried Cas both bridal style and in a fireman’s grip, just because he felt like it and because he had easily deduced that Cas would like it. Cas would never forget the time Dean held him bridal style as he demanded Cas jerked off, that orgasm was definitely one of his top ten for many different reasons.

Dean had to steady him and he smiled dopily at the man, which Dean returned with a grin of his own.

“Take this,” Dean handed him the soiled tie. “And put it in the sink, take a shower, and then put on some clothes.”

Cas breathed unevenly for a moment. “Okay.”

The calm was settling over him. He was here now, in Lawrence, in Dean’s house, and Dean was here with him. He felt his body relax.

“Yeah?” Dean grinned wider when Cas looked at him with no doubt droopy eyes. “Just a quick shower, okay?”

Cas nodded and went to do as Dean had said. There was only one bathroom in the house and it was small, but well kept. The water pressure wasn’t as good as Cas was used to and there was a shower curtain, rather than a glass wall. The curtain kept slicking up against him so that Cas had to bat it off like an offending hand grabbing for his butt but Cas relished it; arbitrary things like that making him feel alive.

He used Dean’s towel to dry himself and didn’t feel any remorse for doing so. As an afterthought he ran some tepid water over his tie, assuming Dean wanted it clean for later. Not that Cas cared either way, he could leave it here and not even miss it.

When he was dry enough he padded over to Dean’s bedroom, not the least shy about pulling out drawers and opening the man’s closet to find himself a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt with the text “Real men shave their balls with an angle grinder” printed on the front. He snorted at it and then went downstairs again, sockless and commando, as he usually was at Dean’s place.

His nose led him to the kitchen and he wasn’t disappointed when he found Dean at the stove, in the midst of cooking. Dean was an excellent cook and Cas never ate home cooked meals in his everyday life, only here. He seated himself at the rickety kitchen table, content with watching Dean move with practiced ease.

“Do you want whipped cream or syrup on your pancakes?”

Cas loved to be spoiled.

“Syrup.”

Dean just hummed and turned around, a stack of thick pancakes on a plate in one hand and a bottle of Mrs. Butterworth’s in the other. He let Cas pour his own serving and smiled broadly at the amount before going back to flipping pancakes for himself.

“Dean,” Cas talked with his mouth full, here. “About that call…”

“It’s fine, Cas.”

Cas didn’t want to inconvenience Dean but he had long since understood that if Dean proclaimed something to be “fine” then it meant he either didn’t want to or didn’t need to talk about it. Besides, they didn’t _talk_ , that wasn’t what this was. Cas settled down with his pancakes, content with the answer because, as history had showed him, if Dean needed him gone he would tell Cas to leave upfront. There was no beating around the bush with them, especially not after so many years.

Dean sat down opposite Cas and started in on his own helping of pancakes, just as drenched in syrup as Cas’ and Cas stopped eating for a moment to just look at Dean. He did that a lot, stared until people got uncomfortable. It had proven a powerful weapon in his work, when used right, but really is was just a quirk of his. Dean never complained. The man just looked up, as if he sensed Cas’ eyes on him, and winked before getting back to his meal, a comfortable silence settling between them.

In the distance someone started up a lawn mower, out in the living room a wall clock ticked, counting the seconds. Dust danced in the air, visible where the sunlight streamed in through the kitchen window. Cas felt drowsy and on edge at the same time.

Dean was looking down at his plate as he ate and Cas’ eyes had gotten stuck on the man’s hands. The way he gripped his fork, the way his big man paw wrapped around his glass of milk. Cas wondered if Dean wanted his forgotten beer but decided that that was a ridiculous beverage to have with pancakes. Later tonight they would get drunk on whisky and fuck on the couch but right now they were having pancakes and whole milk and Cas couldn’t stop staring at Dean’s thick fingers.

“What’s on your mind, Cas?”

Dean knew Cas too well.

“Your fingers.”

“That right?” Dean arched an eyebrow at him as he popped the last of his pancakes in his mouth, amused. “What about my fingers?”

Cas swallowed when Dean reached over and pulled Cas’ unfinished serving to eat that too. He knew exactly what Cas thought of his fingers. Cas squirmed in his seat.

“They’re thick.”

“That they are.”

“They feel good,” he mumbled the last part, licking his lips when Dean snorted out a chuckle.

“Tell me more, Cas. What do you wanna do?”

Dean almost always took charge and Cas loved that; wanted that, so the few times when he asked about Cas’ fantasies always left Cas feeling dizzy and aroused.

“Ride you,” he breathed out, eyes wide as he realized he had actually said it out loud.

“Oh really?” Dean leaned back in his chair, pleased grin on his handsome face. “You gonna ride me hard, huh? My fat cock deep in your tight little ass?”

“Yes,” Cas was choking on his arousal now, only Dean could pull such an immediate and intense reaction out of him.

“Where are we?”

Cas moaned when Dean asked him to so outright paint him a picture of his desires. It was too much and too little at the same time somehow. He pressed his hand against his crotch and bent down a little, eyes on the table.

“On the bed.”

“I’m stretched out on my back, am I?”

Cas nodded furtively, dick perking up more and more. “You let me work for it,” he whispered and shivered when he heard Dean get up.

“Get in the bedroom,” Dean’s voice was a low growl and if Cas had been younger he might have come from that alone.

He scrambled to get up, body hot from the knowledge that Dean was right behind him as he tumbled up the stairs. He was stopped inside the bedroom, Dean’s strong hand on his shoulder turning him around so that they could kiss. It wasn’t loving and slow, never was with them. Dean dominated the kiss and Cas easily yielded, body pressing against Dean’s broader frame as he let himself get swept away.

“Prep yourself, boy,” Dean ground out and Cas practically flew over to the bed.

He knew well where Dean kept the lube and he almost tripped in his haste to go over to the nightstand and remove his sweats at the same time. Dean disappeared somewhere but Cas wasn’t concerned, feeling entirely too safe to be bothered. He climbed on the bed when he was naked, spreading his knees and reaching down past his hot balls to skim his finger along the crack of his ass.

He poured too much lube on his fingers and didn’t bother with warming it up before he started massaging his hole. To be quite honest, Cas’ favorite position to prep himself was while squatting but he didn’t want to look ridiculous. He could reach fine enough anyway and was soon two fingers deep and scissoring them slightly. It was difficult for him to relax, though, already so wound up at the thought of once again having Dean inside him. It had been too long.

It wouldn’t be the first time he rode Dean but somehow this felt special since Dean had pulled the fantasy out of him. He moaned when he brushed against his prostate, his dick already hard, resting against his hip.

“Damn, boy.”

He opened his eyes only to find Dean standing at the foot of the bed, completely naked and Cas’ damp tie in his hand. His other hand was on his hard dick, stroking slowly as his hot gaze traveled over Cas’ body, making him writhe in need.

“Dean,” he breathed, pulling out to reach for the man, needing his thick fingers instead.

Dean grinned and got on the bed, hugging Cas close and rolling them over so that he ended up on his back with Cas on top of him.

“Hands behind your back, Cas.”

Cas didn’t even question it, not with Dean. He seated himself in Dean’s lap, hands behind himself and head thrown back as Dean sat up to reach Cas’ hands. He kissed and sucked on Cas’ throat as he bound Cas’ wrists together with the tie and Cas shivered against him, eyes closed as he felt desire dance around them, making the air quiver with heat.

Dean was swift with finishing Cas’ prep, knowing full well that Cas loved the burn; loved to let Dean’s dick stretch him completely.

He helped Cas get seated correctly but once Cas had sunken down all the way, sighing as he swiveled his hips in little figure eights, Dean leaned back, a new grin on his face. Cas blinked his eyes open, realizing that without Dean’s support and without the use of his arms, he was truly going to have to work for it. His eyes widened and Dean looked awfully smug when he noticed the realization dawning on Cas’ face.

“Go on then,” he said, tone amused, and put his hands behind his head. “Ride me, boy.”

Cas whimpered and threw his head back again, moving his hips slowly at first, gaining momentum as he realized he wasn’t falling off. Dean facilitated the movement a little by spreading his legs and sometimes pushing his hips up, dick jumping inside Cas, but mostly remained still.

It didn’t take long before Cas got desperate. Dean was playing into Cas’ fantasy and the man’s thick dick was pressing up against Cas’ prostate and it sent sparks throughout his whole body. His dick bobbed with his movements and he panted loudly as pleasure surged through him, enough to keep him on edge and frustrated but far too little to make him come.

“D-Dean…” he moaned, sweating now. His balls were drawing up and he was approaching the precipice, slowly and steadily.

“Faster, Cas.”

Dean’s voice was rough, washing over Cas and making his arousal spike. His thighs were burning but he had to do what Dean wanted, had to get the gratification of satisfying the man and had to for himself as well. He was so close, so fast, but still so far away.

He moaned through clenched teeth, bucking harder and feeling Dean slide in and out of him, his hole stretched well enough by now. With the amount of lube they had used there was bound to be obscene sounds and the smacking made Cas’ needs rise with every hump down.

Dean filled him so well, kept Cas grounded and made him see stars at the same time. He never wanted to leave this moment and he needed to escape it, his mind jumbled as only pleasure registered. Sharp and painful and oh so beautiful.

“Holy shit, Cas.”

A ripple went through Cas and he slumped forward a little at the sound of Dean’s voice. He sounded strangled and not as smug or amused anymore and the thought of him affecting Dean like this was _almost_ enough to push Cas over the edge.

“Dean,” he whined, pained eyes meeting the man’s lust-blown ones. “ _Dean_ , I _need…_ ”

“Shit.”

Dean bucked up hard, almost hard enough to make Cas fall off since he couldn’t catch his balance with his hands. But he remained seated and forced his hips to start moving again, drilling Dean’s dick into him and putting his stomach muscles to work.

His skin was slick with sweat now, hair matted down, and breathing ragged. He was _so close_ , if only he could get just a little friction on his dick he would be able to come without problem but Dean was staying on his back, just out of reach and Cas’ hands were tied by his stupid tie. Oh he could probably wrestle out of it if he put his mind to it because the knots weren’t very tight, but what would be the fun in that? Cas was beyond thinking but he was still not beyond ruining this for himself.

He needed to let Dean have control and he needed to be made into a mess and Dean always knew best how to accomplish that.

“Just a little more, Cas,” Dean grunted then, making Cas realize he had been begging for release out loud. “Come on, be a good boy and make me come first.”

Cas was crying now, his body so hot; too hot. His dick hurt, it actually _hurt_ , and his balls were so far up inside him he was sure they were gone forever. His lower lip was swollen and red from him biting it and his breathing was a hiccupping, quivering little thing in his chest.

Suddenly Dean sat up, grabbing Cas’ ass cheeks in his big hands. The motion was such a surprise that Cas was sufficiently caught off guard for his orgasm to be halted even though his dick was now smashed between them and receiving ample friction.

“You’re too fucking hot to be real, Cas,” Dean groaned, mouth pressed against Cas’ jaw. “Hold it just a bit longer, okay?”

Cas was choking on his need to come and only managed a whimper but Dean clearly interpreted it correctly as he continued with seeking his own high in Cas’ body. He pressed Cas’ cheeks together and started rutting quickly up into him. It was fast and brutal, and absolutely glorious.

It couldn’t have been even a full minute before Dean shouted out his release against Cas’ shoulder but it felt like an eternity to Cas, trapped as he was on the edge by Dean’s gruff command. Dean stayed still for a _long_ moment, hands massaging Cas’ ass as Cas writhed in his lap, delirious with his need to come.

“Fucking _hell_ ,” Dean grunted and at long last put a hand between then, calloused fingers wrapping around Cas’ neglected dick. “You’re fucking spectacular, Cas. I can’t even fucking—”

White noise drowned out the rest of Dean’s words when Cas came so hard he blacked out a little.

Three days later Castiel was dressed in his suit again, sans tie. Dean had gotten him his briefcase and Castiel picked out his phone from it, seeing the many, _many_ missed calls and notifications and wondering for a moment if he would have time to go through everything on his flight back to Ohio.

Dean punched him lightly on his shoulder, grinning. “Give ‘em hell, tiger.”

Castiel didn’t have time to miss Dean on his way back, too absorbed in his phone and annoyed at himself that he hadn’t brought his laptop for the trip home. Sometimes he did and sometimes he didn’t, it really depended on the urgency of his need before leaving home.

Several hours later he was walking into his dark penthouse, hanging his coat on his designer coat rack and already counting the days until it was feasible for him to return to the simplicity of Dean’s embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!   
> I'm thankful for all of you and for SPN for bringing us together 😍


End file.
